


On A Pale Horse

by Barb G (troutkitty)



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Boys in Chains, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-05-16
Updated: 1998-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-24 14:39:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/264627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troutkitty/pseuds/Barb%20G
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The beginning of the end of the horsemen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On A Pale Horse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Methos' position in the Horsemen is dramatically altered.

The filly trembled under Methos like her legs were about to give out. Already their tracks up the dune were being erased by the hot wind. The horse's neck and shoulders were covered in a thick foam, but at least the anger in her backbone was gone. He was about to turn her around and ride back to camp when he saw the other rider. Silas.

The filly balked for a second, and then started down the dune again. This time she obeyed the reins. He smiled briefly at that. Silas caught up with him a few moments later.

"Brother. Kronos wishes to see you," Silas said.

Methos tried not to look at him. The man was bovine, and as fond as he was of the slow immortal, he knew he had to lash out at someone and didn't want Silas getting hurt. "What does he want?" he asked, rubbing his eyes. The sun made his head hurt and going back to the noise of the camp would only make it worse. The filly's head sunk to her knees as Silas turned his huge gelding back to the camp. She plodded along side, spent.

Silas shrugged his shoulders at the question. He wouldn't know and wouldn't have thought to ask. "You broke her well, brother. She will be a fast one for you."

Methos shrugged as well. She would never be up to Silas' weight, but any of the others could have her. When she recovered from the day's ride most of her spirit would return as well.

 

The camp stank. The animals and the skulls brought back from their travels made sure of it. He dismounted, giving the reins to one of the slaves. "Walk her well and make sure she has short drinks. If she colics up I will tie your entrails in knots as well," he threatened. The slave blinked, but nodded and kept his head down.

Kronos was in his tent. "Brother. When Silas told me you were out breaking a filly I rather hoped he was not actually referring to a horse," he greeted.

Methos bowed his head, slightly. "If you want her she is yours," he said.

Kronos smiled, idly running a hand across his chest. "No, brother. I have given up fillies for a time. Especially ones you have broken. They have too much spirit for me, yet."

"What is it that brought me back here, brother?" Methos asked, ignoring that.

"We ride east tomorrow. It has been some time since we have been that way."

"You needed to ask me this or tell me this?" Methos asked, and took the water skin from the peg it hung on. He drank his fill and then splashed his face with the rest.

"What is wrong, my brother?" Kronos asked. For a moment they met eyes, and Methos didn't like the slight smile on Kronos' lips.

"It is nothing."

"Perhaps this melancholy of your would snap if you fill your bedding again," Kronos suggested.

"The occupancy of my bed is of no concern to you, Kronos," Methos snapped.

Kronos grabbed his shoulder. Methos glanced down at it with carefully measured surprise, and it removed itself.

"What think you of the plan?" Kronos asked to cover up the clumsy silence.

Methos exhaled sharply. "How does it deviate from the plan of last week, last month or last year? We ride, we kill, we split up what isn't too bloodstained. What think I of the plan? It will work."

Kronos' eyes narrowed slightly. "Do you have something to say, brother?"

"I thought I just expressed it."

"But only in part, I think."

Methos turned around. "I think we should expand, brother," he said.

"Expand?" Kronos asked.

Methos took a step forward. "Enough of this killing for blankets and frightened women, Kronos. Let us gather an army. One more village is nothing. Let us take on a city. Let us take on ten cities."

"No."

"No?" Methos asked.

"We for is all we need. More men means more betrayal."

"I'm tired of nomads. They run, they scream and they smell, before and after death."

"We four together. No more. Never more."

They stared at each other, and Methos bowed his head slightly again. "You are right, brother," he allowed.

Kronos smiled at him.

The screams woke him up. Methos threw on his tunic, and grabbed his sword from where it lay beside his pallet. He went outside his tent to the main fire kept burning through the night. Caspian didn't look up from his business as Methos casually placed his blade on Caspian's neck. "If you insist on your sport so late at night, at least have the common decency to remove their tongues before you start," he said, simply.

Caspian jumped to his feet, and his hands were still bloody from his work. "Leave off, brother. You have no call," he hissed.

"Wake me in the middle of the night again and see how much call I have," Methos promised. He removed his sword from Caspian's shoulder and stabbed the hysterical villager, which ended Caspian's game. He wiped his blade on a cleaner part of the body's clothing.

The rest of the night was quiet.

The next morning they rode east. After three days ride they came to a village that burned as they rode out. They brought with them half a dozen scrawny horses and not much else. Methos watched from a distance on the filly as Caspian chose a wench from the half dozen cowering women and threw her over his saddle. Caspian looked up and met his eyes, daring him. Methos picked up the reins and rode on.

Kronos pulled up and let Methos draw even. "Another successful ride, wouldn't you say, brother?" he asked.

Methos shrugged. "If you call it that," he said.

"Still hoping to run the world, Methos? Isn't enough to rule it?"

"Rule it for how long, Kronos? Until the next drought or plague comes and frightens them more? Control, Kronos. It can be done with more than fear."

"Why would you want to. You aren't losing your taste for it already, Methos?"

"Monotony removes all pleasure eventually, brother. A change is in order."

"I don't think so, Methos. One more of these outbursts and I will begin to doubt your loyalty. You aren't asking me to question your loyalty, are you?"

"Of course not, brother," Methos said, quietly.

"Good," Kronos said. Methos jerked as Kronos slapped his shoulders. "Excellent, brother."

 

The screams started just as the rabbit came off the spit. Caspian worked in the fire's light, and his blade reflected the black liquid in the yellow light. Methos tried to eat, but the screams were beginning to bother his head. He threw the rabbit's leg at Caspian, and it struck him on the forehead, leaving a red mark where the hot grease hit. "If you are going to do that, take her out of earshot," he said. Silas looked over to him with a dumbfounded look, unable to comprehend why it should bother him. Kronos glanced his way again, but it was only to display that half smile. The woman hadn't stopped screaming, but she was exhausting herself. Without answering Caspian stood up and grabbed the woman by her hair and dragged her away. Methos saw Caspian's eyes for a moment before turning away, and Methos saw the hatred.

He took the filly out again. He pushed her until she was lathered and foamy, but her legs were still as he dismounted. She was building strength, and that pleased him.

Silas found him again. "Tell him I wish not to speak with him," Methos said, leading the mare further away from camp. Silas tried again.

"He asked for you."

"You said that. Silas, go back and tell Kronos that I am not a dog to be brought to heel," he said.

"Kronos said--"

Methos stopped. "Kronos does not summon me. He may request my attention. He may ask to see me. But he will never summon me. Tell Kronos I will return at my leisure and may seek him out, afterwards."

Silas opened his mouth, but Methos mounted. "Tell him that, brother," he said, kicking the filly's flanks. As exhausted as she was she broke into a run.

When he returned to camp the main fire had burned down to a more manageable size and was tended to by a single slave. He dropped the reins, and if she hadn't been tended to he would have run the slave through.

Kronos waited for him in his own tent. "I asked for you, brother," Kronos said. His voice was mild.

"So Silas said. I was occupied, brother."

"But I asked for you. If you do not wish to speak with me you tell me that yourself."

"And defeat my own purpose?" Methos asked, pouring water into a basin and washed his hands. "What did you want, brother?"

"We ride tomorrow."

"I could see how that is important enough to pull me back."

Kronos stood up, moving to him. "Your tent is empty."

"Excessive noise makes my head hurt. I couldn't stomach the weeping any longer."

"So you aren't in mourning, brother?" Kronos asked, voice deceptively sweet.

"For what?"

"The little piece."

"She is already forgotten about. Until tomorrow."

Kronos was not happy with the dismissal.

The next night Kronos had a surprise waiting. A grandmother and her two young grandchildren waited in his tent, staked out. Kronos waited with them with his smile.

"You have made me doubt you, Methos. I doubt your mind and your sword are still with us. Are you still with me?"

"You know that I am," Methos said. His voice was cold.

"Prove it to me, Methos. Kill them all."

"No," Methos said. He took his sword out and severed the leather strap. "I hate the smell of blood in my tent and I don't want to drag the bodies out again."

Kronos stepped into his space. "Do not cross me, Methos," he whispered.

"Cross you? My brother. How could I? I would have to be under you to cross you."

"That could be arranged."

"Is that a challenge, Kronos?"

"We don't draw swords, Methos. Not against each other."

"Then do not play with me. When I want to kill I kill. I do not kill because you wish it," he said, and then nudged the terrified woman who hadn't moved from where she had been placed. "Get out of here," he said.

Kronos smiled at him as the old woman fled the tent. "I would not play with you, brother."

 

He waited until the sounds of the camp had gone before standing up. He was still fully dressed and grabbed his sword. He made it down to the herd before feeling the other. "Going somewhere, Methos?" Kronos asked. He sat at a small fire some distance away from the herd.

"I couldn't sleep," Methos said. Kronos nodded like he was actually believed.

"It may be the company you are not keeping, brother," Kronos said, and then ran his eyes over Methos' body. "One does get tired of bleating sheep night after night."

He pretended he didn't understand. "Pleasant night. Too bad there is so much moon. The would see us coming," Methos said.

Kronos nodded, pretending as if nothing had happened. "Good night, brother," he said.

Methos only nodded.

 

The next morning he took his saddle bag and sword. The filly was already saddled by the time he heard his name. "Methos, where are you going?" Kronos asked, lightly. Caspian was behind him and they both had their swords out.

"This no longer amuses me," Methos said, lips back in an almost sneer over the naked steel.

"You wish to leave the horsemen?" Kronos demanded. He kept his voice light, though. "Is this some kind of a test of loyalty? Well done, brother. Surely you must have known this might someday occur. We should clarify this. I believe if you are not for us you are against us, and no better than a camp slave. Caspian?"

"Agreed," Caspian said, not taking his eyes off Methos.

Methos' only defense was not to draw his own blade. "That does clarify it. Thank you, brother," Methos said. He offered his wrist, but Kronos when grabbed it he was pulled into an embrace.

"Think nothing of it. I would enjoy you against me, Caspian would like it even more, I think," Kronos said in his ear.

Methos' back knotted up. Suddenly, this wasn't good.

Kronos let him go, and Caspian took the reins from him. "Let me try her today," he said. Methos backed away.

"Enjoy," was all he said. He ended up on a darker gelding who was both taller and slower than the filly.

 

On the day's ride he found himself killing for the first time since they boredom came down, but took no pleasure in it. Their screams for mercy and their god's interventions meant nothing to him. In the end he was bloody and filthy and glad the flies preferred the dead to just the stinking living.

He went back to his gelding, and saw the other three arguing over something he didn't see or care about. If he left them alone for any longer they would probably take their own heads, but he hadn't liked the threats Kronos had given him. He mounted and was glad for the burning huts and bodies. The greasy smoke made it even easier to slip away.

But the gelding itself betrayed him. It had been with the herd so long when Methos forced it away the stupid beast called back to the rest of the horses. He swore, promising to slit its throat if he was ever able to again. He whipped the gelding into a run.

They others gave chase; he knew they would. Eventually the gelding just collapsed when its heart gave out. Methos felt it happen, but as he tried jumping free the gelding twisted down and landed on his leg. He cursed again, kicking at the dying animal with his free leg, but it took more time to free his leg from under the body than it did for Caspian to catch him.

The filly was winded slightly, but her eyes were alert and her head up. That gave him a perverse kind of pleasure as Caspian dismounted and placed his sword against Methos' neck.

When he finally pulled away from the dead horse, Kronos had arrived on his stallion.

"Thank you, Caspian," Kronos said, throwing down a pair of shackles. They were locked on Methos' wrists and Caspian tested them by yanking him down to his knees. He pushed to his feet immediately after. "Well done." Kronos smiled.

Caspian was reluctant to pass over the chain. "I caught him," he protested. Kronos ignored him.

"I am not going back to camp over your saddle," Methos snapped, pulling away. He had no where to go, and almost tripped over the dead horse again. The sweat collected the sand on his face, and the war-paint began to itch.

"I wouldn't dream of it, brother," Kronos said, licking his teeth. "To break a mount to ride you must first exhaust it. You have proven that time and time again."

Kronos jerked him off his feet again, and Methos dragged along behind for a few dozen paces. But Kronos' horse was exhausted from the mad run, and eventually he was able to climb to his feet and jog along behind when the stallion slowed down to walk.

They had to camp out that night in the desert. When the sun went down and the sky lost the last of its light Kronos finally pulled up. Only years of pride kept Methos from sinking to his knees and panting like a dog when he was finally able to stop. Kronos noticed that with a slight smile, and then Caspian moved up behind him, looping his arm around Methos' throat and tightened. Methos buckled, clawing at the arm around his neck, and felt Caspian's sickening breath on his ear.

Kronos let it continue from his horse, before pushing into the both of them. Methos fell clear, curling up and hugging his body. He coughed, trying to get enough air back in his body to stand. "Enough," Kronos said, motioning Caspian to his horse. "Let's break camp."

"Later," Caspian snapped.

Kronos moved the stallion between them. "Now, brother," he said, keeping his voice light. He dismounted and gave his reins over to Caspian. Caspian took them, reluctantly, setting up a horse line a short distance away.

Kronos approached Methos, where he sat in the sand. "Thinking about running again, brother?" Kronos asked.

"I was," Methos said, honestly.

"You wouldn't get a hundred steps, and I would break both your legs and make you crawl back," Kronos said, reaching down and pulling Methos up to his feet by his hair. The pain was sudden and sharp compared to the dull ache coming from the rest of his body, and it exposed his neck from the tip of his chin to his collarbone. "And you would find that unpleasant, brother."

"What do you want?" Methos demanded, trying to pull away, but the hand in his hair was iron. There was no breaking free; they both knew it.

"You of all people haven't worked that out yet, brother?" Kronos asked, and then moved into his space, still holding his head back. Kronos bit him on the throat just below the jaw. It was hard enough so that the tooth marks now in his skin welled with blood. "You, brother. I want you."

Methos tried to break free again, but it only left him in more pain. "Never," he hissed. "Not now, not ever."

"I love your spirit. I hope it lasts a bit longer than the other camp slaves, brother. Are you thirsty? You will be doubly so by tomorrow morning...and by high sun you will by dying from it. Remember your words then, brother. Try drinking them if you have to."

Kronos kept the first watch into the night, and Methos stayed as far away as he could being staked out no better than the horses. But the night was cold and the fire crackled behind him. Kronos finally called to him. "You should try to sleep, brother. Tomorrow you will be glad for the extra energy."

Methos kept his shoulders square. "I'd rather lie with your stallion," he said, not turning around. The paint on his face itched more, but he ignored it.

Kronos laughed. "Not tonight, my brother. You are in no danger with me tonight. Besides. You are my brother, Methos. I have not forgotten that, even if you have. I will not do anything to your body that you do not beg me to do."

"I've died of thirst before. I've starved to death. I've died in agony before. There is nothing you can do to make me beg."

"Watch your words, brother. You will make this too easy for me. Come. Sit by the fire. When Caspian comes up to watch you might not feel as safe. I am sure he will not make the same promises I have just given you."

"He touches me and you would kill him. We both know that."

"Of course. I still think you should sleep."

Methos brought his knees up and lowered his head to them. It was the end of the conversation. He heard Kronos waking Caspian half way through the night and waited long enough to hear Kronos' breathing lower into sleep before standing up and dragging his chain to the edge of the fire. "May I sit, brother?" he asked.

Caspian looked up, enjoying his supplication. He nodded, stirring the fire's embers with his knife, and when he pulled it from the pit it glowed in the night. Methos stared at it without fear, looking past it to Caspian's eyes. "He is going to tear you apart and I am going to enjoy watching, brother."

"As long as you enjoy watching, brother," Methos said.

"He'll give you to me eventually."

"And you'll be nothing but a dog begging scraps from his master."

"At least I won't be the scraps."

Methos nodded, allowing himself to be scored upon. "True," he allowed. He stretched, letting the clanks of the chain carry over the fire. "Do you mind if I sleep here?" he asked.

Caspian looked him over, trying to see why, but then stabbed the knife through the air. He grunted, and Methos curled up on his half of the fire. He stayed awake feigning sleep until Caspian started to ignore him, and then let himself slip away.

 

He woke to the sound of water splashing on the sand. He jerked awake, expecting the worst, but it was only water from a skin. "Thirsty yet, brother?" Kronos asked.

Methos shook the sand from his hair and ignored the question. His mouth was dry enough to feel his heartbeat vibrate from the roof of his mouth down to his throat, but said nothing.

"Stubborn. And this one would not have cost you anything. Get up. We ride."

When Methos continued to ignore him Kronos grabbed his hair and pulled him to his feet. Methos exhaled the pain out of his body, but continued his silence.

It was a mistake to anger Kronos so early because his stallion was in better condition than he had been yesterday. The filly, Methos couldn't help but notice, was even better. Kronos pushed into a gallop, and Methos lost his footing by the second step. He was dragged, and the sand scraped off layers of skin when he wasn't careful. By the time he was allowed to crawl back to his feet his cheeks and lips were bleeding and the fine silted sand mixed with the blood into an almost paste. He tried to suck his lips clean of the blood, but he didn't have enough spittle to get rid of the sand from his mouth His head began to distance itself from his body. He was starting seriously to dehydrate.

"You said you've died of thirst before," Kronos called down to him, collecting his chain and pulling him close to the stallion. "Have you ever died this close to water before?" Kronos took another pull from the skin, letting the water carelessly over run his mouth and drip down his face. When he finally corked the skin the water droplets covered his skin and shone in the sun. Some of the water splashed down to where Methos was, and he could feel the wind cooling the skin it had touched.

Methos turned his head. Kronos' foot lifted his chin gently. "Have you?" he asked, "Brother?"

"No," Methos said, quietly. "Brother."

"Does it make it worse or better?"

"Worse."

"That's what I thought," he said, and spurred the stallion. Methos plodded along behind, but the sun was too hot and he couldn't even sweat to cool himself down. He collapsed the first time in the mid afternoon, but was pulled to his feet. He couldn't feel his body except for his heartbeat, which seemed to vibrate in every joint he had. His tongue felt like leather, and when he went to lick his lips they split open again. He sucked back the blood, but the saltiness didn't help. Kronos dismounted, and made a show of beating the sand out of his clothing where he fell. If Kronos hadn't held him up while doing this he would have fallen down again. "I think you are dying, brother. Would you like something to drink?"

Methos shook his head, not sure if he could speak in anything more than a croak.

"Stubborn to the end, aren't you, brother," Kronos said, smiling. "Take care to make sure that some day it won't be to the very end."

The pace the horses were forced to keep would make sure they never returned to camp, but Kronos wanted him to die on his feet. So he did.

He came back feeling cold. It was night and he was staked out on the ground. His left cheek itched, and realized it was an insect bite at the same time he realized he couldn't scratch it. His hands were shackled over his head. He turned his cheek and rubbed the bite against the sand. It helped, somewhat.

"You're awake, brother," a voice said, coming from a long way away.

"Silas?" he asked, and the strength of his voice surprised him. He opened his eyes. The gentle face looked down at him, and Methos saw the pain and betrayal.

"Kronos said you tried to leave us, brother," he asked, as if a denial from Methos would make the whole problem disappear.

"He's awake, then. Bring him, Silas," Kronos ordered. Silas had no problem being told what to do. Silas jerked Methos to his feet, and for a moment Methos was afraid he was going to be carried into the tent, but then Silas let him down and he stepped into Kronos' space by himself. He kept his head up even after he saw what waited for him. Caspian lounged behind Kronos, and they both were smiling. "Silas?" Kronos asked again.

Silas put him down on his knees, and the hand on his shoulder discouraged him from trying to push to his feet again. Kronos ran a hand through the tangles of his hair and shook his head. "You won't be in any condition to take care of this, brother, and I won't want to take the time," he said, bringing out a knife. Methos jerked back, but with Silas holding down over his own haunches there was no where to go.

Kronos brought the knife across his throat, to prove a point, and then began sawing at the thick hair. The clumps of hair fell around him, and no one said anything. As the last bit of it came off, Kronos washed his hand in the basin of water and lifted Methos chin.

The warpaint had mixed with sand and sweat, and was missing in places were the skin had been rubbed off and grew back clean. Kronos dipped the rag in the basin, and the squeezed off all the moisture from it. He began roughly scrubbing Methos' face, and a few times Methos winced in actual pain. By the time he was finished the water in the basin was filthy, and Methos was shorn, shining, and humiliated.

The sun burned him. He buried his face into the crook of his arm and didn't move as the other approached. It was just Silas. "Brother, drink," he said, sitting down next to where he was staked out.

Methos let Silas drip the water onto his lips, and the liquid that slipped through was cold and sweet. To keep him alive and suffering Kronos had allotted him enough water during the day to barely survive, and gave Silas the responsibility of making sure he drank it.

"No," he said, turning his head away again.

"Brother...Kronos doesn't want you to suffer like this," Silas began again. It was the third day, and his body was screaming to just die, but he had been denied even that. Twice Silas had to physically open his jaws and force the water down his throat, and Methos didn't feel like he had the energy to put that much of a struggle again. When the small cup was brought to his lips parted them, determined to drowned himself with it. His miscalculated and ended up coughing half of it back onto the sand. The water hit his stomach and the cramp it gave off made him curl up as much as his chains would allow. The pain of his body absorbing the water causing forgotten pain to come back would have brought tears to his eyes in normal situations.

"Brother, please," Silas said, sprinkling the last few drops of water on his face and working it onto the sunburned skin. The wind touched it, and for a glorious moment he was actually cool. "No more of this."

Methos nodded. Silas was right.


	2. On A Pale Horse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kronos works Methos through the details of their new relationship.

Kronos motioned to Silas, who carefully laid Methos down. "Leave us, brother," Kronos said.

"I stay," Silas said, crossing his arms across his bull chest.

Kronos put a gentle hand on Silas' shoulder. "I am not going to hurt him," he said, as gently as Kronos could. "He has submitted. He should be welcomed back amongst us soon. We are still brothers, all of us."

Silas looked down to Methos, who nodded vaguely. "Go," he whispered.

Silas left. Kronos waited a moment before turning on Methos. "Did you have something to say?" he asked.

"I'm thirsty."

"So?"

"May I have some water?"

"What would you be willing to give me?"

"What do you want," Methos asked, quietly.

Kronos smiled. "Your obedience."

"You had that."

He was thrown a water skin. "Drink brother. To your rapidly recovering health."

Methos controlled the shaking of his hand. He pulled the cork free, and drank until his shrunken stomach was full, and then left the rest of water pour over him. Kronos took the skin from him, holding his head in his lap while his body went through the final cramping. When his muscles finally stopped protesting the agony they had been in, he slumped forward.

The knife slid between his neck and the tunic he wore. Methos jerked alert, but Kronos only smiled and pressed a finger against his lips. "You are in no danger," he said, softly. A moment later Methos was naked, and the filthy cloth thrown away from the both of them. Kronos reached up and took down the basin and another rag, and slowly begun washing his body. Methos didn't complain as his body healed from the sunburn and the cloth brought its wonderful coolness to his skin.

Kronos took his hands, washing both of them carefully before kissing the knuckles. "Sleep, brother," he said.

For once he didn't argue.

When he woke it was evening and he was thirsty again. He sat up, running a hand through his hair before he remembered what happened to it. Kronos watched him wake up, still smiling. "You look better," he said, dangling a water skin from his hands.

Methos stared at it, and then looked away. "What do you want, brother?" he asked, quietly.

Kronos stood, stepping over him and let it swing slightly.

"Your obedience," Kronos said, letting his face fall down from the smile. His eyes were cold.

Methos reached up and took the skin, taking a swallow. "And if I don't give it to you?" he asked, not looking up.

"That is the next logical question, isn't it. You've taken to the bit, brother. Reject it now and...we'll have to hurt you worse."

"And if I continue taking it?" Methos asked, recorking the skin and putting it down on the ground.

Kronos lifted his chin. "You might actually enjoy it, brother," he said, smiling. Methos met his eyes. Kronos rough finger came down and outlined his lips, crushing them the first time around, lightly teasing the second. "Although I could bring the stallion in. If you would still prefer him to me."

Methos moved his jaw, but said nothing. The finger pressed against his mouth. Methos hesitated for a split second, and then parted his lips. Kronos' index finger entered his mouth, while his pinky caressed his cheek. Kronos remained still in his body for a moment before slowly withdrawing and thrusting back inside. He smiled again at Methos' lowered eyes.

"My brother. That didn't hurt, did it?" Kronos asked, backing away. Methos suddenly remembered that he had nothing on. What was comfortable during the heat of the day was suddenly very uncomfortable in the evening's chill and Kronos' sight. He backed away, slightly. Kronos' eyes moved down his body, as if just noticed the bareness of Methos' body.

"Come here," Kronos ordered, standing with his arm crossed and his legs slightly spread. Methos stood up from the bedding and went to him. When Methos was across from his brother, Kronos suddenly smiled. "I thought you said you would never be summoned," he said, tracing a line down Methos' face.

Methos turned to the touch. "I said a lot of things."

"As long as you realize that, brother."

"I realize it."

"Good. Go on."

Methos began taking off Kronos' clothing. He even knelt down to remove his boots, pulling them off. "You aren't finished yet," Kronos continued. He motioned the wash basin. Methos stood up, knotting up his back as he turned around. He took the wash cloth up, but then Kronos moved up behind him, wrapping his arms around him.

Methos jerked free, breathing hard with the surprise. Kronos laughed, but the sound was actually amused. "Finish your job."

He dipped the cloth in the basin, beginning from Kronos' shoulders. The water dripped down and neither of them noticed. Methos moved behind him, working back up again, and Kronos' fists clenched and unclenched on his hips.

The knife Kronos used to cut off his clothing still sat beside the bedding. Methos worked his way down Kronos' flank, stopping momentarily to work the hip. He bent forward, kissing the small of the back just above the buttock. He heard Kronos' breath quickening, and then reached for the knife, pressing it against Kronos' neck.

Kronos didn't even flinch. He grabbed the knife hand and flipped Methos over his shoulder. Methos fell hard in the bedding; his breath knocked out of him. Kronos straddled his body, idly playing with the knife on his chest. Methos took a deep breath, trying to anticipate the up-coming pain. "The next time you try to kill me, brother, wait until after you finish what you are told to do. It would make it easier for you."

"Go on, kill me," Methos said.

"Kill you, brother? Why should I?" Kronos asked. He put down the knife and gathered up both of his wrists, pinning him down to the bedding.

"Breaking your rules. Slipping the bit. Trying to kill you," Methos said, but he was smiling slightly himself.

"Methos, you underestimate me. Why do you think it was there? If you hadn't gone for it I would have worried. I know you, Methos. I know you. You can never escape that."

He tried. Kronos rode Methos like he really was a mount and let him exhaust himself. He finally sank back down under Kronos. "Feeling better, brother?"

"Let me up," Methos hissed.

"Not quite yet," Kronos said, and transferred both wrists to the same hand. A moment later the shackles were on again, which kept his wrists a chain-link apart. Kronos took the knife again, letting it play down his body as he moved back over Methos' thighs. "I told you. Nothing you wouldn't beg for," he said with a slight smile. Kronos worked the knife over his lower belly and thighs, using it to shave away what little body hair Methos had. The blade itself was cold, and raised up goose bumps where ever it ran over. "Afraid yet, brother?" Kronos asked.

In truth he was, but the fear turned to excitement in the pit of his stomach and there was no way he could hide either emotion from Kronos. His eyes gave it away if his cock didn't. Kronos went back to his little game, for a few more heartbeats before tiring with it. The chill of the night air along with the coldness of the knife made the heat in Kronos' breath seem unbearable. But where it passed over him stayed warm for less than a heartbeat before cooling off colder than the surrounding flesh. Methos half sat up, straining his abdomen muscles, but caught the protest in his throat before it could escape. Kronos smiled at that, running a hand up and down Methos' neck like he was masturbating it. The strong fingers that could have crushed his windpipe instead found the back of his ear, his cheeks, and the hollow of his collarbone. "Beg, brother," Kronos whispered. "Beg me to take you."

As a promise of future delights he ran his tongue up and down Methos' erection, following the veins on the underneath. Methos jerked again, but didn't try to escape. Kronos smiled at that, and then blew on the trails of saliva left by his tongue, chilling the flesh.

That did it. "Please," Methos whispered, all but writhing against him.

"Please what, brother?"

"Your mouth. Please. Stop this torture, brother," Methos hissed.

"With your permission?" Kronos asked, smiling again. Methos could have killed him but the knife wasn't in his grasp. Kronos was never stupid.

"Yes," Methos said, throwing his head back again as Kronos' hand encased him. The strength and the heat of it made his hips buck.

"Say it, brother."

"You have my permission, you bastard," he hissed.

"Excellent, brother," Kronos smiled, bringing his mouth down. The heat of it made Methos throw his head back and groan. He could hear the sand beneath the blankets grind against itself as he twisted under Kronos' mouth. It was soft one moment, taking his entire length down its throat and gently working its tongue around his base, and then cruel the next. The groan became a moan of pain as Kronos deliberately raked his teeth against the flesh.

Kronos smiled after the first time he caused such pain. "Are you enjoying yourself, brother?" he asked, teasingly.

Methos opened his eyes, and worked his throat slightly to make sure it worked. "I hate you," he said, simply.

"I know you do," Kronos said, and went back to his teasing. Only this time he only worked his tongue up and around the foreskin. Methos grunted, but Kronos grabbed his chained wrists before the could touch Kronos' head. "Ask me to let you come."

Methos turned his head away, but the tongue lashed out, working him to almost orgasm before Kronos slapped his cock, hard.

The pain was unbearable. Methos tried to curl up, but Kronos' weight was over his legs and he could do nothing more than open his mouth and let the silent cry escape. Kronos didn't give him a chance to recover. With Methos' body still sending him the agony from other parts of his body his cock was down Kronos' throat in the heat and suction. His breath came in short gasps, half afraid Kronos would stop, half afraid he wouldn't. The gasps became pathetic cries, and then wretched whimpers. "Please," he whispered.

Kronos stopped, pulling away. "Please what, brother?"

"Let me come, please," he whispered, not caring what his words sounded like.

Kronos lapped at his head, slight smile back. "What would you give me?" he asked.

Methos didn't answer. Kronos lifted the flat of his hand, and Methos winced. "What ever you want," Methos said.

"Anything?"

Methos nodded. "Anything, brother," he said.

"Very good. Excellent, brother."

Methos held his breath, expecting the next demand, but Kronos took him again. It didn't take much. He gasped like Kronos had stopped to strangle him, and came, slumping against the blankets. Kronos let him sleep.

 

He woke up with most of the early morning already gone. He sat up onto his elbows, looking around. Kronos sat a distance away, watching him. The greyness of the tent stole the colours from everything, and Kronos himself looked black and white. "You are awake," he said, needlessly. Kronos stood up, standing over him. "Do you remember your promise?"

Methos nodded. He continued not saying anything. He had to stretch his neck out to look up, but Kronos demanded at least that of him.

The knife dropped down, landing point up between them. "Do you remember that, as well?"

Another nod, less energetically than the first time. "Brother, I have to punish you. I have to be able to trust you, and you make it difficult when you behave improperly. Do you agree?"

A third nod, this time barely moving his head.

"Then you admit you deserve this?"

Nothing. No movement. That went too far, and Kronos knew it. He nudged Methos with his bare foot. "Brother?" he asked, gently.

"If you think I deserve it," Methos said, guardedly.

"That's not good enough, brother. I want you to hear you say it. In fact...I insist on it."

The silence continued, and Methos could feel his 'punishment' getting heavier along with it. "I deserve it," he said, finally, sinking backwards. He moved his arms up, resting his head on them. Kronos glanced down his body, half exposed under the blankets, and smiled.

Fully clothed, Kronos lay down beside Methos' naked body, for the most part not even the furs between them. Kronos kissed his mouth, but it was a show of possession, not affection. Methos swallowed the gagging reflex as Kronos' slithering tongue worked its way into his mouth and raped him. Hating himself Methos didn't fight it. Kronos' hands were all over his body, working their way into intimate locations. The ridges between his ribs, between the blankets and the slight indentation his spine made down his back and traced out the hollow between his ribcage and his pelvic bone. It was as non-sexual as the kiss, but made him into a belonging to be pawed at. Methos finally managed to push away, sitting up away from Kronos.

Kronos moved behind him, moving his lips down his shoulder blades. They never touched Methos' skin, but it was close enough so that the almost invisible hairs moved when Kronos exhaled. "You have a beautiful back, brother," Kronos said, finally pulling away. "I would like to see it under me more often."

So he was to be raped. He had expected as much. He glanced down to the slight arousal his body had in reaction to Kronos' hands and words, and shook his head. It was no longer rape. The worst it could be called was unwilling acquiescence.

He felt the air move, and when he turned around Kronos had stripped himself, and lay back comfortably to where Methos had made a nest in the blankets. "Come, brother," he said, reaching out with his left hand. The right arm was behind his head.

Methos balked. "What do you want?" he asked, carefully.

"You interrupted something I told you to do. I want you to finish it."

Methos glanced to the wash basin, but when he moved to get it Kronos grabbed his arm. "You don't understand. It's too cold for that now. I want you to wash me using something much warmer," he said, letting go of Methos' arm long enough to run two fingers down his cheek. "You may start any time."

He understood. He straddled Kronos' body like he had been straddled earlier that evening, but their positions remained the same. Over Methos' body or under it, Kronos still retained his dominance. They both knew it and it didn't need to be commented on.

Methos first tentative lick traveled over the two knobs of bone at the base of Kronos' throat. His skin tasted salty and dusty, but there was another spice under both of those. It was not unpleasant, and Methos hated himself for it. His tongue became playful despite what he wished as it flicked and worked itself down Kronos' pectorals to the flat of his belly. Kronos watched him work with a slight smile, stopping him inches away from his cock by reaching down and cupping his chin. "There will be that for later," he said, and then reached up with his free hand. He took down another skin, but when he uncorked it Methos could smell the rich wine. "Come, brother, drink," Kronos offered.

Methos bent his head down. The wine was hardly cut down at all and it was heady. After two swallows he felt the effects, and even went so far as to smile at Kronos. Kronos' hand lifted his chin up high enough to make him get off Kronos' legs for a moment, and Kronos rolled over to his side. "Start again," he said.

Methos nodded as well as he could. Kronos let him go and he worked his way down Kronos' ribs.

Kronos stopped him half a dozen times to drink from the skin before Methos finished with his body. By that time his head was wrapped in the wine, and nothing seemed to matter. The humiliation was gone with the wine-fumes, and although the morning might bring it back worse than any hang-over, he had no way of hiding how much the 'punishment' had excited him, as well. "I let you come," Kronos finally reminded him.

Methos nodded. His body started to tremble, still not able to replace completely some of the dread. "And you promised me anything. Promise me it again."

"Anything, brother," Methos whispered.

"It will hurt," Kronos warned.

"I've been in pain before."

Kronos smiled at him, but the amused laziness was gone. He was alpha dog again, and demanded submission. Methos gave it to him, on his hands and knees. It hurt to take Kronos' aggression, and felt his body protest the battering invader. It hurt and he took it. He bled and he stopped. Kronos got off him to wash up. When he came back to bed Methos was still slightly shuddering. Kronos gathered the unprotesting body to his chest, locked the shackles back on his wrist, and threw the blanket over both of them. He could feel Kronos' cock pressing limp against the small of his back and that made him shudder a little longer.

 

He woke to see the full sunlight striking the leather of the tent. The light that entered the tent reflected off the blade of the knife, still sticking up off the ground only inches away from where his hands were still shackled together. Unfortunately, the arms around his body were as strong as the metal around his wrists, and trying to break free would wake Kronos up before he could reach the blade. He may be taller, but Kronos was both stronger and heavier, and they both knew who would win if it came down to a struggle. He exhaled, sharply, and relaxed against the body holding him.

Kronos laughed in his ear, and let him go with one arm so that he could stroke Methos' newly shorn hair. "I wondered when you would wake and see that," he said, quietly. "You must have been more tired than I thought. Did it hurt not going for the knife?"

Methos didn't risk not answering. "A little," he said, quietly.

"But you will get used to that pain. If you had tried something rash the punishment would have been much more severe than the work-out you went through last night."

Methos let himself blush because that was the response Kronos wanted to see. Inwardly he seethed, silently, to himself. If Kronos thought he could be kept as an obedient camp slave the rest of their time together he was mistaken. Methos could wait. He knew Kronos as well as Kronos knew him, and eventually the advantage would be his. He could wait for it.


	3. Riding With Caspian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Methos gets himself given to Caspian.

Kronos smiled at him. "Are you hungry, brother?" he finally asked.

Methos honestly shook his head. He had been so thirsty the past three days that food was the last thing he wanted to take into his body. Now that he hadn't eaten in a while he didn't feel the pain.

"But you will eat. Come with me."

Methos hesitated for a moment. He still didn't have anything on. Kronos glanced to him again. "Would you like a tunic?" Kronos asked, lightly.

Methos straightened his shoulders. "Not particularly," he said, going to step past Kronos. Kronos grabbed his shoulders, almost pulling him off his feet. Methos recovered before going completely down. He straightened.

"Do not test me, brother."

Methos looked down on him. It was a satisfying moment, but didn't last much longer. Kronos went to knee him, but Methos anticipated the movement and already started doubling up. It caught him in the lower belly and stole his breath. He deserved it. They both knew it, but the pain was worth it. Kronos threw the simple cloth at him. "Put that on and remember yourself."

"Yes, brother," Methos said, meekly, catching the tunic with the hand that wasn't pressed against his hurt. He pulled it down over his hips, and noticed it didn't go much further down.

Silas wasn't at the fire. Caspian was. His stomach tightened as Kronos sat down on one of the rocks around the edge. A moment later he was pushed down to his knees. Caspian leered at him over the flames. Methos met his eyes. When Caspian licked his lips Methos dropped his eyes, slightly. Kronos didn't see it.

A camp slave brought Kronos a plate. Methos could smell the meat and his stomach rumbled. Kronos began eating with his fingers, looking at him all the while. "Still not hungry, brother?" Kronos asked.

Methos turned his head away, amused. He was struck over the head, hard enough to make his ears ring. "Would you like to feed me?" he asked.

"Would you like to spend the night with Caspian?" Kronos asked, back. He kept the lightness in his voice.

Neither one of his brothers looked at him. Caspian bowed his head over the favour given, and Kronos smiled at the favour owed. Methos suddenly pulled back like Kronos' plan terrified him. He shifted closer to Kronos' knee, pressing his lips against it. "I am hungry," he said, quietly. "Brother."

Kronos smiled down at him, but Caspian's favour had already been given. The forgiving air of Kronos' grace didn't ring true. He picked up a cut of meat from his dish, bringing it down to Methos' level. Methos took it delicately in his teeth, letting his lips touch Kronos' fingers. The thick grease of the meat coated his mouth as he chewed, and suddenly he was famished. Without being told to he licked clean Kronos' fingers.

Kronos smiled at that, caressing the hollow behind his ear. "You are learning, brother," he said. Kronos continued feeding him slowly. The sun was hot by the time he had eaten most of the meat out of Kronos' hands.

Kronos smiled as he took the last piece up and offered it to Methos, holding it a few inches away from usual. Methos leaned forward to take it, but then Kronos dropped it. Methos could hear the small thump as it landed. They both stared at it. "Go on," Kronos said, quietly.

Methos let his back physically hunch up. "I am not a dog," he said. In fact, as he spoke Kronos had to kick away one of the pack that stayed by the camp to eat off its waste when they weren't hunting down run- away slaves.

"I'll decide what you are or are not. Eat it. I gave it to you."

Still he refused. "Caspian will enjoy you today, brother," Kronos hissed, and then struck him with the back of a balled fist. It caught Methos in the jaw. He grunted, bringing a hand up and rubbing where it had caught him. Kronos slapped his hand away and cupped his chin, digging long fingers into his cheeks.

"Would you like to come back to my tent to face my displeasure after entertaining Caspian, brother?" Kronos whispered.

Methos said nothing because he couldn't. Kronos' hand locked him in place. Kronos saw this, and then slowly begun to shake Methos' head back and forth. He did it twice before pulling back. "Are you still hungry, brother?" he asked, crossing his arms.

Methos didn't answer. He bent down and picked up the meat from the sand. The fat had congealed in the time it took to feed him, and the sand stuck into it. He chewed, carefully, hating the sound and the feel of the grit against his teeth, and swallowed as quickly as he could handle the large piece of meat. Kronos stood, pressing his foot down on the back of Methos' neck until his cheek was pushed into the sand. "Enjoy, brother. He is yours," Kronos said, leaving him there. "Only...do not use him out here and if you are going to make him scream I suggest a gag. Silas should be returning shortly and we do not wish to upset him too much."

Caspian smiled at Methos while answering Kronos' smile. "Of course, brother," he said.

Caspian didn't say anything as Methos straightened up back to his haunches. The slight leer in his face was enough. He grabbed a passing slave, barking out his orders. The slave looked puzzled, but brought the cooking supplies and the brazier he asked for to his tent.

 

Methos took a deep breath. He hadn't really expected Caspian to forget about the rabbit's leg, but it would have been better if he had. The hot oil sizzled in the kettle over the fire, and Caspian stirred it idly with his knife. Methos was on his back again, but at least it was in the dimness of a tent. It was harder to accept the fact that his body was going to be hurt when the sky was so blue and wispy clouds floated across it.

That Caspian rarely used gags didn't mean he didn't know how to use them. Methos didn't fight as the rag was shoved in his mouth so compactly that he couldn't even move his jaws yet had nothing restricting his breathing. Caspian tied the rag in place but didn't even test the knot. Once Methos was silenced he turned back his attention to the kettle.

When the oil started just to boil, Caspian removed it to the sand between them. Caspian dipped his knife back into the fat, and then brought it up to Methos' forehead, pressing the hot blade and the oil against his skin. It was enough that Methos stayed still for it; nothing could make him stay silent. He screamed into the gag, but no sound came out the other side. Caspian pressed his hand down on his upper chest, feeling the strength behind the silent agony. It made him smile. "One day I will hear you scream, brother," he said.

Caspian removed the knife and a drop of the oil slid down the ridge of bone over his eye and slid behind his ear leaving an angry red mark behind it. Breathing through his nose as hard as he was, Methos couldn't help smelling his own body almost cooking under the heat of the oil. Caspian waited for the blistering redness to go down slightly before ripping off the tunic from his chest. But by then, of course, the oil had cooled down a little more and had to be reheated. He couldn't control the pain tears as they slipped off joining the hot oil behind his ear and making the hemp holding the rag in place wet.

When the oil was smoking again, Caspian dipped the knife into it, taking as much as he could onto the flat blade, and then brought it over Methos' exposed skin. The first splatters of it hit him and he arched up to his shoulder blades up off the ground where he lay.

The newly healed skin was much more sensitive to the heat than the rest of him, and once Caspian found that out it kept him occupied for a while. Just when Methos thought he could handle that variation, Caspian took to reversing the blade and slicing into the hot oil with the edge. The blood on the burns actually felt cool. When the sweat mixed with both the blood and the oil, and the salt slipped into the cuts, the pain was too much.

Methos passed out.

 

When he came back, Caspian had stopped. The knife came up at his first sign of life and split the hemp rope. Methos turned his head to the side and barely had the energy to cough up the rag. It took three times to get it past his teeth. He rocked his head back, gasping the oily air around him.

Caspian moved over him, putting a hand down and gathered up the blood and the oil off his chest. It was used as lubrication. Caspian manhandled his body, turning him over and pressing him down into the dirt. His body had healed when he had been under, but the skin still felt raw as it was ground into the dirt. Caspian mounted him, the oil making it easy to slide inside his body. Methos pushed up to his elbows, despite the pain. Caspian let him climb that far because it was easier to thrust inside him. Methos bowed his shoulders in his submission, and Caspian came inside him, pulling out. He felt violated and slippery. He didn't look up as he pulled his knees up under him.

Caspian threw him his torn tunic. Methos shrugged it on, ignoring how bad it was. Caspian had finished playing; the game was over.

Kronos came for him. Methos pushed to his feet, still a little hesitant. He managed to walk out of the tent with his square shoulders and in a straight line. Kronos noticed it with a slight smile.

 

Kronos marched him back to the central tent. Kronos waited for the tent flap to fall back in place before turning to him. "You are stronger than I thought. I had thought Caspian might have broken you."

Methos didn't turn around. Kronos tugged at the collar of his tunic. It pulled off his shoulder easily. Kronos moved up behind him and kissed the bare shoulder. "Did you enjoy yourself, brother?" Kronos whispered.

Methos' shoulders tensed under the kiss and the question. "No, brother," he whispered.

"Do you know what happens the next time you disobey me, Methos?" Kronos asked.

Methos took a quick breath. He nodded.

"Good. Very good, brother," Kronos pulled the tunic off his other shoulder. The simple cloth fluttered off him. His skin was unmarked, of course, but Kronos walked around him and saw the sand mixed with the blood and the oil still on his chest. "Did it hurt?" he asked, tracing a pattern with his fingernail through the filth. Methos started to shiver.

The nail dug deeper into his skin, and he winced, slightly. "Did it hurt," Kronos let the words drop to a threat.

"Yes," Methos whispered.

Kronos' hand came up to his forehead, touching the still oily skin. "Could you smell it, brother? Could you smell your body cooking?"

"Yes," Methos whispered, again, looking away.

Kronos smiled. "Take me in your mouth, Methos. Do that, and I will wash you and let you sleep," he said. His hand lightly carressed Methos body, but the dirt in the oil made his delicate touches feel rough.

Methos turned his head away. "You could force me on my knees and make me," he said, finally.

Kronos laughed, but there was no humour to it. "I could," he whispered. "But I do not wish to. I want you on your knees willingly, brother."

Methos took a deep breath. He turned around, dropping down to his knees. Kronos' mood was dangerous. Methos didn't like the glint in his eyes. His brother touched his ear, and stood with his legs slightly apart. Methos took Kronos out, licking his lips for a moment. He swallowed, taking him into his mouth. Kronos placed both hands on his head, but applied no pressure and did not attempt to guide the head. Methos hesitated for a moment, and then clumsily moved the flesh in his mouth as if he had no idea what happened next. Kronos' smile turned authentic as another opportunity to instruct Methos arose.

Methos finally pulled away, wiping his mouth. "Teach me," he said, quietly.

"What was that, brother?" Kronos asked. A hand slipped under his chin, lifting his head.

"Teach me, brother," Methos whispered. "How do I please you?"

"Do you wish to please me?" Kronos asked. His hand touched on his throat, running fingers down the softness behind the jaw bone.

"I do," Methos whispered.

The hand on his head patted him like he really was a dog. "Slowly, brother. Show me above all else you wish to please me. Use your tongue. Use your whole mouth."

He started again, repeating the tiny licks Kronos had given him the night before. He started at the base, working his way to the head. When he took it in his throat again he could feel the difference. Kronos thickened, and Methos let it choke him, slightly. "Cover your teeth, brother," Kronos warned.

Methos complied. The hands on his head guided him into a gentle rythmn, and then pulled away. Methos rocked back and forth on his knees slightly to keep it up. "Now swallow, brother, gently. Let me feel your muscles working down me."

After that nothing was said. Kronos breathing increased, and his hands returned to his head, suddenly grabbing his hair. Methos grunted in pain, but the sound was muffled. Kronos thrust his head over his cock three times and then slammed it down his throat the final time. Kronos' cry was animalistic as well as victorious. Methos swallowed what he could, but Kronos' hands kept him pressed against his pelvic bone for a very long moment. When the hands released him, Methos waited until Kronos pulled away before sitting back over his haunches.

Methos wiped the spittle from his chin, and stared down at Kronos' boots. Kronos lifted his chin a second time. "Very good, brother. You are learning. Soon you will be welcomed back to us. But never forget your place again."

He looked up, trying to read Kronos' eyes, but couldn't tell if that was a real peace offering or just meant to pacify him. He looked away again.

 

As promised Kronos washed him again. The cloth was soft against his abused skin, but the water was cold in the night air. Methos started shivering half way through, and the oil did not come off his skin easily. When the last of the oil and the blood had been washed off, Methos shivers became trembles. Kronos let him stand there patheticly for a moment, before wrapping his arms around him. In that moment Kronos body was the warmest thing Methos felt, and he all but sank against the stronger body. "Are you hungry, brother?" Kronos whispered.

Methos nodded, not letting himself speak.

"Lie down, brother. You have done well today, and I am proud of you. I will bring you a meal to eat."

"Thank you, brother," Methos said. It was the only thing that seemed appropriate to say. With that, Kronos left him, alone and unguarded in the tent. Methos didn't move until the flap closed again, and then looked around him. Naked and damp, he wouldn't have gotten very far in the desert night and in the morning Kronos' dogs would hunt him down. He felt too tired to think about running. Instead he curled up in Kronos bedding and let his own body heat collect itself.

By the time Kronos returned, he was almost asleep. He felt the warning before the flap moved, and had pushed himself up to his elbows as Kronos returned with another bowl of food. He was fed by hand again, but this time as Kronos would have fed a small child. The thought made him smile. But he was warm and eventually fed. By the time Kronos joined him in bed he barely felt the arms around him.

 

The next morning he woke to Kronos forcing his way inside him. He tried to jump away, but he was pinned under the weight. He cursed, but even that turned into a begging sound as Kronos managed to force himself dry. The pain and the burn caused his eyes to water, and the hand on his throat tightened into a crushing grip as he still tried to get away from the hurt.

"Lie still and take it, brother," Kronos hissed in his ear. "Show me you can take it."

Kronos bit into his shoulder. Methos could feel the blood break through his skin. As Kronos moved away the blood and pain kept the shoulder warm. The mouth moved up to his neck, biting himagain. Kronos grunted, locking his jaws. Methos buried his forehead into the blankets as he felt Kronos release inside him. Kronos got off him, going to wash up again. Methos touched the second bite gingerly, and his fingers came away bloody. He rubbed the them together, staring at the redness. Before Kronos dressed himself his body had healed. His anus stopped aching, at least. The humiliation might never heal. Kronos' eyes never let him forget it.

Kronos put his body armor on. "Do not," he said, simply.

Methos stopped reaching for the wash cloth. He couldn't see the mark on his neck, but the one on his shoulder was visable. He could see where Kronos' teeth had been. It was the closest Kronos could get to marking him. Kronos would never believe he would disobey again so soon after Caspian, so he dropped his hand.

Kronos smiled at that.


	4. Handicapping the Winner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Methos starts his revenge--but more violence on his person, first.

Kronos returned to the tent and Methos didn't even look up from the bedding. He was still shackled and pegged out. He had felt the three of them return a while ago, but Kronos must have thought that dividing up the day's bounty was more important than Methos' muscle aches. The first day he had been likewise restrained, but that was before Kronos showed him what remained of a camp slave who had tried to escape. There hadn't been much; the dogs had been thorough. Kronos unlocked him, and he stood up, rubbing his wrists.

"Pleasant day, brother?" Kronos asked. Methos went to him and took off his armor, going to the wash basin. He did this all without being told; it had been more than a week since Caspian. Methos glanced back to Kronos while filling the basin. It was time for another session with Caspian.

"Why did you chain me?" he asked, finally, returning to where Kronos waited.

"I like the way you look in chains," Kronos said, running a hand through his short hair. Methos broke the rules by pulling away.

But Kronos must have been still amused with the day, because he let it go. Kronos reached out, cupping Methos' chin with his free hand. Methos winced as his lips were mashed against his teeth, giving him no choice but to open his mouth. Kronos then pulled him into a kiss, lashing out with his tongue. Methos turned his head.

Kronos let him go. "Still upset over the chains, brother?" he asked. Methos stepped away from the immediate area.

He said nothing though, which drained the last of Kronos' good mood. "Did you hear me, brother?" he asked, voice cold.

"I heard you," Methos said, his own voice dropping down in anger.

"You forget your new position, brother," Kronos said, grabbing hold of his shoulder.

If Kronos noticed that Methos' response was slightly slower than instinct, it didn't show. Methos picked up the hand off his shoulder and went to throw it back at Kronos. Kronos twisted his wrist, grabbing hold of Methos' hand and pulled. Methos lost his footing and landed hard against Kronos' body. Kronos grunted as he hit, and then wrapped both arms around him. He was locked in place, but didn't stop fighting. Kronos held him against his body, obviously enjoying Methos' struggles. He was then thrown to the ground.

"Well, well, brother, this is a pleasant surprise. I had thought all the fight to have left you after your last visit with Caspian. He will be pleased you have proven me wrong."

Methos tried to buck him off. "Get off me!" he hissed. "What's wrong, Kronos? Are you unable to try your own hand at breaking me?"

Kronos only laughed. "I would, brother, only Caspian takes more pleasure in it than I do," he said. Methos almost broke free when he felt Kronos' cock move against him. Kronos laughed and rode him out. Methos fought, closing his body off as best as he could, but Kronos was stronger. He gasped in pain, throwing head back and stopped struggling once Kronos gained entrance. Kronos only laughed at him, pushing him down further into the ground.

"Please," Methos whispered, pressing his forehead against his forearm. Kronos only laughed twistedly. Methos felt the hands around his hips, holding him in place for the rape. Kronos took his time, enjoying the twisting of Methos' muscles as each thrust caused more and more burn. He eventually started to bleed, which helped somewhat. Kronos grunted a final time, and threw himself against Methos' body. For a long moment he stayed like that, and Methos let him. His body still sent him the pain from his shoulder blades to his knees as Kronos climbed off him.

"Why do you make me do that to you, brother?" Kronos asked, lightly.

Methos didn't move from the ball shape his body had taken. Eventually he lifted his head and took a deep breath. "I am not your pet," he said, finally.

Kronos smile deepened. "You will be. Then you will be my brother again," he said, and grabbed Methos' arm. He climbed to his feet, not even bothering to brush free the dirt that had embedded itself in his knees and elbows. Kronos hauled him forward, and Methos took a jerky step before spinning himself around. "Brother, please. I beg you. Don't do this," he said.

Kronos smile dropped. "You shouldn't have thought to cross me, brother," he said, voice suddenly dangerous. "You will never win. Understand that."

Methos dropped his eyes.

 

Once outside the tent Methos heard the muffled grunts from Silas' tent and the muffled screams from Caspian's. Kronos didn't even clap to announce themselves out side the tent flaps. Caspian glanced up from his sport with a young girl and saw the two of them. He got up, and the girl still had enough presence of mind to try to cover herself. She bled from a dozen cuts, but none of them were serious, yet. "Go," Caspian ordered, already dismissing her. The girl stood up and ran out the tent past him. Methos could smell her fear over the smell of her own blood.

"Brother," Caspian said, looking only to Kronos.

Kronos pushed him, and he took a step forward. "He should be taught to mind. Enjoy, brother," Kronos said. He turned around and left them alone.

Caspian stood up, smiling slightly. Methos glanced down to the knife in his hand and took a small step forward. He glanced down to the knife, watching the drop of blood hover on the tip of it. The drop did not quite possess the volume needed to join the blood already spilt on the ground. He looked up to Caspian's eyes and saw the sick lust.

Caspian crossed the rest of the distance between them, and threw him down to the ground. He landed hard, and with Caspian's foot heavy over the small of his back.

Methos heard the clank of metal against teeth, and Caspian had both hands free to rip the tunic off his back. He started shivering, but it probably had nothing to do with the cold air. Almost gently Caspian began tracing out a pattern on his back with the girl's blood. Methos' shoulder's hunched up, but Caspian hadn't even broken the skin. The blood had already cooled off and when it painted on him he could feel it slightly thicken. Eventually the knife was clean and his back was crawling.

The chill of the blade slicing through his flesh beat the white hot pain to his spine by a fraction of a heartbeat. It wasn't a serious cut; Caspian hadn't started yet, but it was enough. He hissed in pain, and the sound was appreciated. Caspian let him bleed for a second, and the sluggish blood touched his cold skin and warmed it.

He didn't count the number of cuts. None of them caused real pain, and most of them healed before the next one. It seemed to fascinate Caspian as he worked over Methos. The same line was opened repeatedly. Methos took it until he felt Caspian get off the back of his legs to adjust something. He knew what was being adjusted.

He sat up, without permission, and put a hand over Caspian's knife. Caspian pulled back, and Methos deliberately sliced open his palm. He winced, slightly, and balled his fist for a moment before slathering the blood collected over Caspian. He then lay back down, bowing his body into submission. Caspian barely had time to mount him before coming inside him. Caspian threw him flat on his belly and lay over him panting.

Eventually Methos tried to move again. "Brother...please," he whispered, softly.

Caspian froze. "What," he demanded.

Methos took his bloody hand and guided it down to his belly. "Please," he whispered again.

Caspian's hand touched Methos almost in wonderment, before slowly wrapping his fist around him. Methos turned his head and ground his forehead in the dirt, groaning as Caspian began pumping him. He stopped the groans half way through and moved the sounds higher in his throat. Caspian leaned forward, moving his hips against Methos even though he was finished.

Methos spent himself, sinking down from the bow his body had been in. Caspian gathered up his semen in his hand, staring at it for a long moment. The milky whiteness began mixing with Methos' blood already on his palm, turning it pink. Methos sat up, taking Caspian's hand in his own and bowed his head over it, lapping up both of his fluids until Caspian's hand was clean. "Thank you, brother," he whispered, finally.

Caspian said nothing.

 

Methos didn't wait for Kronos to collect him. When Caspian finally got off him, he stood up and tried to work the blood-stained ripped cloth over his shoulders. Although his legs felt fine, he let himself wobble slightly as he made his way to the tent flap.

Kronos waited for him, and seeing him bloody made him smile. "Have you learned your lesson, brother?" he asked, quietly.

Methos bowed his head and kept his eyes on Kronos' boots. He nodded.

Kronos smiled, lifting his chin. Methos didn't raise his eyes and was surprised at the kiss on his forehead. Kronos' tongue came out, lapping at the dried pain-tears in the cornor of one eye, and then the other. "Did it hurt, brother?" he asked, pulling away again.

Methos nodded again.

"Tell me."

"It hurt, brother."

"Will you obey me?"

He nodded. It was enough.

Kronos let him go. "I will wash you, brother."

Kronos washed him slowly, and then dribbled the oil on the small of his back. When he felt the first of the fingers inside him, Methos let his throat give off a whimper of protest, which only made Kronos laugh gently in his ear. "This won't hurt, brother. This is your reward," he whispered.

Methos hid his lack of interest through cringes. Kronos had sympathy for once and just let him sleep.

 

He woke up alone and unchained in the morning, and clean clothing lay beside the bedding. He stood up, getting dressed, and stepped out of the tent.

Silas was alone at the camp's fire. He had been dreading this moment, but crossed the distance and helped himself to some of the communal breakfast. Silas said nothing and he didn't start the conversation. "Why, brother?" Silas asked, finally.

Methos looked up like he hadn't been expecting the question. "Why what, brother?"

"Why did you let yourself be captured?" Silas asked. "Why stay?"

Methos motioned with his chin the dead body left out to rot, not that there was anything left of it. By now the flies and the vultures and the dogs had managed to drag off almost everything but the pelvic bone and the contents of the slave's intestines. The smell was horrible, but no worse from what came from the wall of skulls already around the camp. The body had been dragged back without a head. Getting pulled apart by dogs was not the way he was going to die, even if he wasn't planning on his revenge.

"He would never let me go, brother," he spoke slowly, soothingly. "Do not worry yourself."

Silas didn't look convinced. He was clearly upset at the change in the camp. "When will you ride with us again, brother?"

Methos half smiled. "Soon, brother. Very soon."

He didn't look up as Kronos rode up. "Come, Silas," he said, ignoring Methos. Methos stared straight ahead and let his body show how much he appreciated being ignored. Silas stood up, but Methos saw the reluctance in him. That was good.

 

"Are you expecting Silas to rescue you, brother?" Kronos asked, stepping into the tent.

Methos looked up at him. "Rescue me from what?" he asked, climbing slowly to his feet. "I am with my brothers," he said, quietly.

Kronos still looked angry. Methos went to him, eyes lowered down his feet and slowly began taking off his clothing. "What do I have to escape from?" he asked, moving his body against Kronos so Kronos could feel his erection. He knelt down unbidden, keeping his smile unseen as he showed Kronos exactly how much he had learned in the past week.

The hands on his head forced him when he didn't have to be. "I am glad you took to Caspian's lessons so well, brother."

Methos stopped. He sat back and the hands let him go. "Don't send me to him again, brother," he whispered. He let his words speak the 'please' he didn't say.

Kronos coughed slightly, and Methos looked up. Kronos smiled at that. "Welcome back, brother," he said, smile turning into a leer. "Now finish what you started."

 

Caspian must have known Methos was in his tent, but when he stepped through the flap holding the terrified man by the arm he looked surprised.

Methos stood up, glancing at the villager. "Let him go," he said, quietly. It wasn't a command, but the hand dropped away from the arm. The would-be victim fell over himself to scramble away, and neither one of them stopped him.

"What are you doing here?" Caspian demanded.

Methos half smiled. Caspian backhanded him across the jaw, hard enough to make him stumble back. Methos took it, rubbing the point of contact. He waited for most of the sting to go away before taking back the step and returning the blow. Caspian was so startled he almost went down himself. His hand came up to where Methos struck him, and slowly worked the jaw. They stared at each other for a very long moment, and then Caspian threw himself at Methos.

They landed, rolling. For once Methos allowed himself truly to fight back, and the sudden blood rush to the rest of his body made him feel alive again. Every time he connected with Caspian whether with his fist, elbow or knee, the roar in his ear became louder. Caspian gave back much of what Methos laid on him, but the blows didn't even seem to hurt.

Either outcome would have been acceptable for Methos' plans, but he was quite shocked to find at the end of the struggle that he was on top of Caspian. He could feel the blood dripping down his chin from a bad cut on the mouth, and even though his left eye was half healed it still made black dots appear. Caspian's nose was bloodied as well, and the skin had split over his right eye. The blood had all but blinded him. For a moment they both froze, panting hard almost together. He could feel his heart in his throat, and could feel Caspian's beat as he wrapped his hands around the throat.

The silence continued as their breathing returned to normal. Caspian looked up at him, questioningly. Methos slammed his head into the ground. Caspian had given up to easily. Methos still wanted to hurt someone.

But then he smiled, slowly. He bent over Caspian's face, letting his tongue dart out to collect some of the blood from the cut over the eye. He brought it down to Caspian's mouth, and spread some of it over the lips. When Caspian went to meet him with his own tongue, Methos sat back. He wasn't interested in that.

He stood up, dragging Caspian up with him and then pushed him down to his knees. Caspian went pliant until Methos removed his hands from his shoulders and then tackled his knees. Methos fell backwards, but twisting up brought his knees to his chest and he was able to kick Caspian off him.

Caspian jumped to his feet, but Methos only pushed to his knees. Caspian circled him warily. Methos waited until he was back around him, and then ran a hand up his thigh, slowly, once. It was an invitation and he made sure Caspian understood that.

Caspian did. He took Caspian in his mouth, teasingly, but when he felt the hands clamp down over his ears he raked his teeth down the length. Caspian almost yelped, but the hands dropped away. Methos laughed with his mouth full, using his mouth to please and to hurt sporadically. When Caspian started to suck in air rather than just breathe it, he pulled away. Now was the time to ask for favours. He kept the excitement peaked with his hand, using his fingernails to scratch whenever it peaked too much. Methos stood up, looking down at him.

"My filly," he said, whispering the words in Caspian's ear as Caspian strained at his touch. "When I ask I want her back," he said.

Caspian nodded, and Methos wasn't even sure he understood the question. He turned his body into Caspian's, letting the other man grip his hips tight enough to hurt. At the moment Caspian threw his head back and began spurting Methos raked his nails against Caspian's cock and bit him hard on the shoulder. The strangled cry became an honest scream. Caspian sank down to his knees.

"I'll take that as a yes," Methos said, looking down at him with slight contempt.


	5. Horseflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Methos' careful plans are finally coming together and Kronos loses control. Unpleasant things happens to one of them.

Methos woke up again alone, but this time Kronos had put outhis old clothing. He bent down to do his boots up when he felt Kronos’s return. He glanced up from on one knee.

"Don't get up," Kronos ordered, standing over him. Methos didn't. He rocked backwards and sat over his foot instead.

"Today you ride with us like a horseman, brother. Runaway and you will never get off your knees again."

Methos didn't quite know how to take that threat. He stood u pand went to Kronos, right into his space. Methos bowed his head, slightly, tilting his head slightly. "Would you like my horse's lead? Or shall you just put a leash on me and drag me along behind again?" He asked, in Kronos’s ear. His voice was silken.

Kronos grabbed his chin, squeezing into his cheeks. Methos turned his head, considering kissing the wrist but realized that would be too much. "Don't test me, brother," Kronos whispered. "You could be stripped and on your knees in a heartbeat."

"Forgive me, brother," Methos whispered. Kronos held him for a moment longer and released him.

It took the weeks of surviving on the will of another to remind him of the rush from having that power himself. By the end of the day he was aware his left cheek and most of his left side was covered in blood, but other than the pleasure of knowing it hadn't come from his body he ignored it. He looked up and saw Caspian watching him. Methos took a step forward, and was brought up short by Kronos. He barely cut the snarl in time.

"You are with me," Kronos said. His eyes were very bright. Having his family together again appealed to him and Methos could feel the heat from his body. Methos turned, away from Caspian.

"Always, brother," Methos lied. Kronos grabbed his face again, squeezing hard enough to hurt. Their temporary camp was almost set up with Silas being in charge of it, but Kronos almost couldn't wait for him to dismount. The horses were left in the middle of camp.

Kronos stripped him harshly, all but ripping his tunic off. Methos let him, but only because the bloodlust was still in his own body. They didn't bother to wash off first. When Kronos went to possess his mouth Methos encouraged him. He parted his lips, meeting Kronos’s invading tongue with his own. Kronos pulled away, smiling at him. Methos went to kiss his shoulder, but Kronos stopped him. "This is a change, brother," he said, running a hand down Methos cheek.

"You have welcomed me back, brother," Methos said. He turned to the touch.

"I thought you said you were bored by it all, Methos," Kronos teased him. Methos dropped down to his knees. "Not anymore," he said.

Kronos held his head still and fucked the back of his throat. Kronos’s nails dug into his shoulders, and Methos felt the blood well up around Kronos’s fingers. He pulled away, despite the pain, and smiled up at Kronos. "Fuck me, brother," he whispered.

Kronos pulled him up, and then bit his neck. Methos felt Kronos lap up the blood on his shoulders. "Did that hurt?" Kronos asked.

"No more than usual," Methos drawled. He pulled away, taking both of Kronos’s hands. "Do you want me?"

Kronos’s hands tightened over his. "Playing coy, brother? This is a new trick for you."

Methos let go of the hands and lay back on the bedding. "Have I thanked you yet for welcoming me back, brother?" Methos asked, stretching out. Kronos stood over him, and for a second Methos let Kronos enjoy making him stretch his neck up to look at him. Methos parted his lips and spread his legs, slightly. Kronos pulled the blankets out from under him, and Methos rolled onto his back. "Brother, you could have just asked," he said, climbing onto his hands and knees.

"What do you hope to get from your co-operation, brother?" Kronos asked, placing his hand over Methos' head. Methos let Kronos push his head down slightly.

"Nothing, brother. Nothing that wouldn't make it easier on both of us," Methos said, staring at the ground.

"So it's the grease you want. What are you willing to give me in return?"

"I've given you the only thing you said you wanted, brother," Methos said, moving his head slightly under Kronos’s hand. He pressed up against it. "My obedience. My willingness. What else do you want from me, Kronos? I am your brother."

Kronos greased his cock, moving behind Methos. His hand moved from Methos' head to his shoulder, holding him down. "Don't annoy me, brother," Kronos said, mildly.

Methos tensed his shoulders and turned his head away as Kronos entered him. The pain was momentary, but he made it seem more than that. He went down to his elbows, bowing his head down. Kronos’s other hand moved to his shoulder, and Kronos drove Methos back to meet his cock. Methos gritted his teeth and took it.

"Don't waste your energy trying to convince me much you love it, brother," Kronos hissed in his ear. "I know you. I know how you think."

Methos half smiled over his clenched teeth. Kronos’s pelvis slapped against him, and Methos decided he really hated that sound. "What do you think I want, brother?" he hissed out between the thrusts.

"I haven't decided yet," Kronos’s voice became more strained. His hands on Methos' shoulders tightened, and Methos could feel the bruises form. Kronos groaned, slamming against his body and fell over him. Methos wanted to pull away from the sweaty skin touching his, but locked his elbows and took both their weights.

"If I have disobeyed you brother, I am sorry,"Methos said, waiting for the weight to move. Kronos continued to pant over him, starting the fucking motions again even though there was nothing there to use. Methos finally got out from under Kronos, sitting down on the bedding and drawing his knees up to his chest. Kronos laughed at that, once, and knelt down in front of him.

"You are sorry," Kronos said, mockingly. "What are you sorry about, brother? That I caught your little game?"

"I do not like having you angry with me, brother,"Methos said.

"Why is that, brother?" Kronos asked.

Methos looked up again. Kronos was smiling at him, as gently as Kronos could. Methos looked away again. "Because I am your pet," Methos said.

Kronos laughed, lifting his chin. "Welcome, brother. You are back."

Methos lay back down on the bedding. Kronos lay down beside him. Methos fell asleep feeling both arms over his body. He fell asleep like that.

 

Methos woke early the next morning while the sky was still grey. Kronos had rolled over to his other side and Methos dressed in a clean white tunic and went outside the tent. He was still sitting by the fire when Caspian came up behind him. Methos didn't turn at the warning, and didn't look up as Caspian sat down next to him. "You don't have to be with him," Caspian said.

Methos shook his shoulders like he almost couldn't control the laugh. "Are you going to tell him he can't?" he asked, finally looking up.

"If that is what it takes," Caspian moved behind him, putting both hands down on his shoulders. Methos put both hands over them. He let them sit there for a moment before digging his nails into the skin. Caspian hissed in pain, but didn't draw away from it. Methos smiled at that.

"That is what it will take," Methos said, quietly."But not here and not now." He let go of Caspian and hugged his body again. "This isn't the time and if he sees you he will not be pleased."

"Let him. I'll take him."

Methos stood up. Caspian's eyes widened slightly as Methos entered the other man's space. Caspian licked his lips in anticipation. "Are you willing to trade what we are for what you want?" he asked, up against Caspian's body.

"Would you give up being a horsemen for a few centuries of knocking each other around?" he asked.

Caspian pulled away for a moment. "What are you saying?" he asked.

Methos didn't let his contempt show. "Play the game my way, Caspian. We'll continue what we are...and I'll give you Kronos to play with as a reward."

Caspian's mouth dropped open. He had obviously forgotten he had begun the morning by promising to kill Kronos for him. "When?" he asked.

Methos ran a hand down Caspian's cheek. "So very soon," he said. Methos washed off with the basin. The water was cold and the air not much warmer yet. He was still shivering when Kronos woke. "You are a bit early for washing,"Kronos said, standing up and moving behind him. Methos didn't move as Kronos pressed into him. Methos closed his eyes, turning around still on his knees and took Kronos down his throat. Kronos’s hands tightened over his head, which forced Methos to fight his gagging reflexes.

Kronos slammed his head against him, groaning deep from his gut. Kronos held Methos against his body until his heartbeat returned to normal and then walked away, starting to get dressed. Methos remained on his knees until Kronos started with his mail and then stood to help his brother.

"I would be careful, my brother. It seems that you are starting to enjoy yourself," Kronos said, letting Methos lace up the breastplate.

Methos bowed his head and kissed Kronos’s neck. "This is not enjoyment," he said, quietly.

Kronos turned around, half turning into his body and moved his hip against Methos' groin. "What would you call it, then?" he asked.

Methos closed his eyes. "Survival," he whispered.

"It's more than that. And we both know it. You wouldn't still be here if you didn't enjoy it. Tell me you enjoy it."

Methos took a quick breath, and moved away from Kronos’s hip."I enjoy it," he whispered. "Was that energetic enough or am I spending the night with Caspian?" he asked.

Kronos gripped his face for the third time. "You are testing me, brother. Maybe I will give you to Caspian."

"You said you wouldn't do that any more," Methos said, wincing as the fingers dug deeper into his face.

Kronos let him go, slapping his cheek lightly. "Did I?" he asked, lightly. Methos rubbed his cheek, but lowered his eyes. "You did," he said, almost sulking. He glanced up quickly. Kronos was believing it, the fool. He was ready for the next move.

"Ah, Methos," Kronos said, and sighed. "You have learned your lesson, brother, but I find that you still forget yourself. Be careful, brother."

Kronos’s hand touched his neck. Methos felt his fingers wraparound his throat. "You've come so far. I wouldn't want to grow tired with your games and decide I don't need you."

Methos stretched his neck out, swallowing under Kronos’s hand. "Forgive me, brother," he said.

Kronos’s hand slid down his shoulder, patting it like Methos was an animal. "I do," he said, gently.

 

Methos saddled his gelding, and watched as Kronos led his stallion in from the herd. "We ride, brothers," Kronos said.

Silas glanced between the three of them, but didn't say anything. They rode out together until the sun was up as high as it was going to get. Methos stopped his gelding and dismounted, taking his water skin from his saddle. Caspian was swinging down from the saddle when Kronos noticed that they stopped.

"Get back on that horse," Kronos ordered.

"I'm hot and I'm tired. We are taking a break,"Methos said, not turning around.

"I said get back on that horse."

"No," Methos said. He pulled off his hood and splashed water over his hair. "Caspian, take him," Kronos snapped, turning his stallion away. Silas' face showed concern, but he didn't dismount. Caspian glanced at him, but Methos shook his head. Caspian turned away. Kronos reined around ,but didn't expect to see Methos still standing and Caspian a distance away with his sword still behind his back. "Caspian, take him!" Kronos raised his voice for th efirst time.

"Caspian," Methos said, quietly. Caspian turned to him. "I want my filly back," he said.

Caspian handed over the reins. Kronos saw the betrayal, but for a moment didn't believe it. Methos calmly brushed Caspian aside and mounted as Kronos turned his stallion and spurred him. Methos followed with Caspian and Silas. Kronos headed away from camp. His stallion was stronger than the unlucky gelding Methos mounted when Kronos captured him, but the filly was faster, and Methos caught up to Kronos easily. He rode the filly into the stallion, and Kronos almost stumbled. The filly rammed him again, and the stallion went down. The filly jumped over the fallen horse, and by the time Methos reined her back Kronos managed to climb to his knees.

Methos drew out his sword, placing it carefully on Kronos's shoulder. "Take out your shackles, brother."

Kronos glared at him, but Methos only smiled back. "I want the horsemen together as much as you do, brother," he said, running the sword up Kronos’s neck. "But if I can't have it my way I'll take your head now and be done with it. It's your call, brother."

Kronos worked his jaw, carefully. Methos waited, and then drew the blade back. "It was your choice, brother," he said.

"Wait," Kronos said, quietly. Methos smiled, but didn't take the sword away as Kronos pulled the shackles from his saddle and locked them on his wrists. Methos took the chain and jerked Kronos forward. Kronos fell, and Methos stepped on his shoulder while taking Kronos’s sword from him.

"I trust you know the rules, brother," Methos said, keeping Kronos down with his face in the sand. Caspian finally rode up, staring at Kronos’s new position. Methos threw him Kronos’s sword. "Keep that. He'll need it...eventually."

Caspian tied it to his saddle. Methos mounted the filly and yanked Kronos to his feet. "Come, Kronos."

The filly was sweating, but she wasn't winded at all. He kicked her hard, and she broke into a gallop. For less than a heartbeat there was slack on the rope, and then it pulled Kronos off his feet. Methos kicked the filly faster. She lowered her body, ears pinned against her neck at the added weight, but she pulled Kronos behind her willingly. Methos pulled up after the filly started to tire.

Methos dismounted, walking back the length of rope to Kronos's bleeding body. "Get up," he ordered, kicking Kronos's midriff.

Kronos groaned, pushing up to his hands and knees. Methos bent down and wrapped his hands in Kronos's hair, and pulled him up to a kneeling position. "That hurts, doesn't it?" he asked mildly, and dabbed bloody spot on Kronos's cheek. The salt on his skin must have hurt because Kronos flinched. Methos smiled again,and licked the blood off his fingers. "I am going to enjoy this," Methos said. He let go of Kronos's hair and went back to his filly.

 

Methos entered the tent. Kronos looked up from where his collar and wrists were chained to his ankles. "I know you wanted our brothers to watch," Methos said, running his fingers through Kronos’s sweat-dried hair. It was stiff to his fingers. "But I think this should between the two of us."

"I had you," Kronos said from his knees. "I had you whimpering underneath me."

Methos laughed, lifting his chin. He picked up the knife. "No. I had you believing I was whimpering underneath you," he said, as gently as he wanted to be. "That is not entirely the same thing."

Methos' knife began sawing at the roots of his hair. The first clump of hair fell to the ground. Methos bent down to pick it up and used it to torment Kronos's face. Kronos tried to pull away, but Methos wouldn't let him. "Did you really think I stayed because I was afraid of you?" Methos asked, walking around him.

Kronos looked at him. His eyes were so furious Methos decided to stop pushing. He cut off the rest of Kronos’s hair quickly. Next he washed off the war paint and then cut the leather ties on his breastplate. It fell off him, and then Methos cut away the rest of his clothing. "I don't have your trusting nature. So you will lick me clean with me holding this knife. Do you understand?"

"Are you enjoying this?" Kronos asked from his knees.

Methos drew the knife across Kronos’s shoulders. It split the skin and not much else. "Yes. I am." He unlocked Kronos, and then dragged him to the bedding. He placed the knife on Kronos’s neck and shrugged out of his white tunic. "Now."

"I am going to take you, Methos. I am going to hack your throat open and tear out your tongue first."

"Kronos...don't make me sew your lips shut. I need your tongue." Methos rested back on his elbows as Kronos began licking his throat. He played with the knife across Kronos’s back, but didn't cut in. Kronos’s tongue was warm and soft, despite the rest of his personality. Methos lay back down as Kronos worked downward. He sighed as Kronos worked down his belly. He stretched out, drawing his knee up.

He felt Kronos move and brought the knife up so that it met Kronos’s neck as the thicker man tried pinning him down. "You can't think I wasn't expecting that," Methos said, mildly. "You were just given to Caspian. Finish your job."

Kronos pressed against the knife. Methos reached up with his free hand and held Kronos’s neck to the blade. "Don't tempt me."

Another moment passed and then Kronos’s head lowered to his belly. Methos lifted his chin with the knife point. "Brother? I'm willing to skip the rest. Show me what else you can do with your mouth."

Methos grabbed Kronos’s head, letting the knife press against his ear, just as a reminder. He dug his nails into the shorn scalp, forcing Kronos like Kronos had forced him. Methos smiled ,digging his nails in a bit more. He slid his hands down Kronos's neck, resting the knife against his back. Kronos didn't stop the pace Methos had set, and he smiled at that. His cock began to throb, and his body began to ache. Kronos took his mouth away,and gently blew on the saliva coating Methos. He threw his head back, being very careful to keep the knife on a sensitive area, and came. Kronos gulped him down, and Methos' s free hand pressed Kronos’s head to his body.

Methos didn't move for a very long time. Kronos didn't move from Methos's body. "Very good, brother. But I did promise you to Caspian. I cannot go back on my word."

Kronos pulled away as Methos let him, and Methos thoughtforcing Kronos to dress him was too much. He stood up, and watched as Kronos didn't move from the bedding. Getting dressed with a naked blade without slicing up his clothing or taking his eyes off Kronos were challenges, but he managed both of them. He threw Kronos a tunic, and motioned the door with his chin. "Caspian might want to hear you scream. It doesn't help the pain by not making any sound. It's more frustration in a time when you don't need any more. So scream loud, Kronos."

Methos' respect for his brother grew as Kronos walked out of the tent with his head high. Caspian sat by the fire, but stood up as they exited. "Is he mine?" he asked.

Methos gave Kronos a slight push. "All yours. Have fun. I did." Caspian grabbed the lead. Kronos didn't fight as he was led into Caspian's tent.

 

Methos followed out of curiosity. Caspian lashed Kronos's wrists together, forcing him down to his knees. Caspian took down the horse whip, and snapped the leather lash once. Kronos looked up to where Methos stood and kept his eye level despite the sound. Caspian glanced to him as well, and Methos nodded. It wasa thrill to have control over both the men, and Methos smiled as Caspian brought the whip down. For a moment Kronos’s face twanged ,but looked up again.

Methos stepped forward, feeling his own body tremble."Again," he ordered, lifting Kronos’s chin as far up as he could without breaking Kronos’s neck.

Caspian frowned at being ordered, but brought the whip downagain. For a moment two blood-red lashes crossed Kronos’s back, but then the first one started to disappear.

Kronos’s body jerked with the pain, but he didn't say anything. "Harder," Methos snapped, squeezing Kronos’s cheek. "Caspian, now."

Caspian nodded, and laid it on Kronos back. Methos felt Kronos’s frantic swallows as he tried to control his breathing under the lashes. Caspian cut down the time between lashes, andKronos looked away, tensing his body. Kronos’s first cry was smothered, and Caspian smiled. The lash caught Kronos in the same place and Kronos screamed, trying to choke it on his forearm, but it didn't work.

Methos held out his hand. "Wait," he said, and Caspian coiled the whip for a minute. Methos lifted Kronos’s head. Kronos wouldn't look at him, and Methos raked his thumbnail over Kronos’s lips. "Again," he ordered, not looking at Caspian.

Kronos was strong and Caspian must have respected that as much as Methos did. Not that Caspian was anything but a means to an end in the tent. This was between Methos and Kronos, and Methos wouldn't let Kronos look away. Even when Caspian put down the whip and oiled his cock, Kronos wouldn't look back at him. Methos knelt down for a second, grabbing hold of both Kronos’s ears and pulled him forward like he was talking to a favourite hound. "This is my doing," he whispered, loud enough so that only Kronos heard him. "Never forget that," he said, and then reached into his breeks. He stood up, working his cock with his hand for a second. He forced Kronos’s head against his thigh until Caspian finished mounting Kronos’s unprotesting body. Kronos was tight, despite the grease used, and Kronos’s grunt of pain was smothered in Methos's leathers. Kronos turned his head and let a guttural grunt escape him as Caspian didn't allow Kronos to get used to the weight or the length of his invader.

Methos continued to stroke himself, keeping time with Caspian until he was convinced Kronos grew accustomed to the rape. He pulled his cock free, but rather than having to threaten Kronos with more violence his ex-master gladly swallowed him, keeping his own time. Methos leaned against the tent-pole, crossing his arms over his chest, and despite the danger, closed his eyes. Kronos was still winded from the beating, and still slightly dazed from the pain, but the mouth on him was ravenously hungry.

Kronos looked up, meeting Methos's eyes. Caspian hunched over him, hands clamping down on Kronos’s hips holding him in place. Kronos continued looking up at him, and Methos half smiled down at him. They both seemed to ignore the fucking going on, and even though Kronos’s face occasionally grimaced in pain when Caspian became too rough, Methos never felt teeth. Caspian began grunting with the exertion, and fell over Kronos as he came.

Methos grabbed Kronos’s head and began furiously fucking the back of Kronos’s throat even as Caspian climbed off. Methos was s oclose, and he slammed his head against the back of the tent pole. That Kronos also spilt his seed into the floor of the tent didn't escape him though. No one had been touching him.

Methos lifted Kronos’s sweating face with his boot and smiled down at it before slapping him once, hard over the cheekbone. Kronos looked down again. "Thank you, brother," Caspian said, finally, and wiped his chin.

Methos shook his head. "Think nothing of it, brother. It was my pleasure," he said, smiling. He gathered up Kronos's leash and dragged him along behind.

 

"Was it?" Kronos asked, eventually. Methos glanced back at him. Kronos’s entire body was trembling, but whether it was due to the orgasm or the healing or the humiliation Methos didn't know or care.

"Was it what, brother?" Methos asked, yanking on the leash.

"Was it your pleasure?"

"It was and it will be again tomorrow."

Kronos stopped walking. Methos turned around, rubbing the flat of the knife against his own thigh as a reminder. "Why tomorrow?" Kronos asked. Methos smiled at him, and then slowly walked around him. Kronos’s trembles turned into shakes as Methos ran his hand down Kronos’s back slowly before parting his ass cheeks and forced two fingers into Kronos’s still stretched and oiled opening. He thrust in a couple of times, which was remarkably easy to do, and then withdrew. Methos walked back around and cleaned his fingers on Kronos’s chest. "It would be too easy for you tonight. I don't want you greased up, brother."

Kronos’s fists clenched, but he said nothing.

Methos hog tied Kronos with the tent's central pole between his arms and his back. Kronos had about a foot length between hisankles and his wrists, and it was not a very comfortable position to spend the night. Methos found he had very little sympathy. He stretched out in the bedding for the first time alone since his gelding fell out from under him.

 

He woke up the next morning, and Kronos was either asleep or pretending to be. He stood up and left the tent to empty his bladder. He came back inside, and washed his face. Kronos still hadn't moved, so Methos took the rest of the water and threw it on him. Kronos sputtered, but couldn't move the way he was tied.

Methos untied him, and pressed Kronos’s face into the ground. Kronos took Methos's brutality with squared shoulders. "Are you trying to anger me, brother?" Methos asked, mildly.

"Do you think I will ever fear you, brother?" Kronos demanded, or tried to. It was difficult with his face pressed into the sand.

"I think you had better learn, brother, for your sake," Methos said, still mild.

Kronos laughed, once. "It is not going to happen, brother. You are not me. You cannot be me. I know you."

"You know nothing!" Methos snapped, and then ground Kronos’s head into the sand. Kronos fought against him. Methos was forced to use both hands to keep Kronos’s nose and mouth in the sand. The struggles grew weaker, and eventually stopped. Methos kept the body in place until he was sure Kronos was dead and shackled him. He stood up and peeled a fruit. He just finished washing his hands when Kronos sputtered back to life. "That? That was the worst you could do?" Kronos demanded, attempting to sit up. Methos knocked him down again. "Youf latter yourself, brother," he said, grabbing the chains and pulled Kronos outside. It was late-afternoon, and the sun was extremely hot. "Do you think you can force me to drink?" Kronos demanded as Methos staked him out on his back.

"No," Methos said, honestly. "I don't have the time. Stay here, Kronos. I'll be right back."

Methos returned to Kronos’s tent, and took some time to find fruit that was over-ripe. The stem of the citrus leaked fluid, and the smell of them was too sweet, almost fermented. Kronos saw what he had in his hands and didn't fully comprehend it until Methos' fist squashed the first of them and it landed on his chest in a pulpy mess. Methos spread the rest of the spoiled fruit over Kronos’s upper arms and thighs, and then licked his hand clean and sat back to watch.

 

The sun and the slight wind helped. They carried the smell of Kronos’s body and the sweet offerings to whatever found it attractive. The rest was a waiting game. Methos returned to the tent once to wash his hands off for real and bring back a waterskin, and by the time he returned the first of the biting insects found Kronos.

Methos watched, amused, as Kronos’s skin flinched as he was stung the first time. With his arms and legs staked out, poor Kronos had less defense against the hordes as a horse did. At least they could shake their skin and use their tails. Kronos had nothing. Methos smiled at the way the insects seemed to attack Kronos’s thighs, but didn't blame them. They looked most appealing as Kronos twisted and jerked under the bites.

"Do you still not fear me?" Methos called, taking a drink from the skin. It was too hot for this. If Kronos didn't bend soon he'd go inside and see what remained of the man in the evening when it was cooler. Kronos pulled at the stakes, but there was absolutely no give to them. Methos imagined he could hear the chittering of the larger land insects approach.

They were more slow than the flying tormentors, but more deadly. Kronos stopped moving as well. "I had you,"Kronos snapped.

Methos opened his mouth to reply when Kronos went into another spasm. The flies around him were thick and Methos tasted the scent of Kronos’s fear under the cloying fruit. Methos grew tired of waiting. He stood up and glanced at the sun, already beginning to go down. "Wait until darkness. That's when the real problems come out," he said, dusting off his hands.

Kronos’s screams started shortly after that, but Methos didn't return until after the sun had gone down but the sky still glowed with its borrowed light. Kronos heard him approach, and Methos's lip curled at the sight. Most of the fruit was gone now, and with it the most innocent of the tiny tormentors. What remained fed off of Kronos’s body, and his chest was a mass of bites and stings. The skin glowed a sick pink that had nothing to do with the colour of the sky in the horizon. Methos stood over Kronos's body, killing a scorpion with his boot. Ugly little thing. "Do you fear me now?" Methos asked, gently. Kronos's left eye looked at him--his right had swollen shut due to a sting.

"Don't leave me here," Kronos managed to say. His tongue was thick, and Methos wondered if it had been stung while he screamed.

"Do you fear me?" Methos asked again. A second scorpion climbed over the body of the dead one, and Methos made no move for it. It crawled onto Kronos, who didn't have any energy left to scream.

"Yes..." Kronos hissed.

"Yes, what, Kronos?" Methos asked. They both stared at the oily blackness of the stinger.

"I fear you," Kronos hissed again.

"Good," Methos turned to go.

"Where are you going?" Kronos demanded, half sitting up. The movement startled the scorpion who lashed out with his stinger. Kronos screamed.

"You need camp slaves. I am not going to touch you,"Methos said, simply. He found two male slaves and told them to carry enough water out to Kronos to wash him off before bringing him back to Methos's tent.

 

Kronos was deposited at Methos' feet. He left Kronos unchaine dfor the rest of the night, but hid his daggers before going to sleep, just in case.

 

Methos woke to the gentle lapping of a tongue on his thigh. He stretched out without opening his eyes, and guided Kronos’s head to his belly. Kronos worked over his navel, dipping his tongu einto the indent almost playfully before moving downward. Methos stopped him, though, pushing the head down to his thighs. Kronos worked his way down past Methos's knee cap, and Methos opened his eyes to watch the show. He hadn't expected Kronos to lick his feet clean, but he enjoyed the attention. He said nothing until Kronos finished suckling all his toes.

"Which are you expecting more of, brother?" Methos asked, lightly. "Mercy or oil?"

Kronos said nothing. Methos pulled up to his knees and manhandled Kronos into the position he wanted. He tested the anus roughly with a finger, but it was dry and tight and Kronos tensed as Methos shoved a single finger past the ring of muscle."Don't worry, brother. As soon as you start bleeding the blood will act as lubrication...until it starts to dry at least. Then it only makes it worse."

Kronos didn't respond other than to press his head into Methos' bedding. The first thrust hurt Methos probably as much as it hurt Kronos. Well, maybe not exactly as much, but he hadn't expected it to be quite so tight. But then if Kronos could rape him dry, it was possible. Methos slammed against him repeatedly until his belly rested against the small of Kronos’s back. Kronos tore half way through, and the blood helped a lot.

"How's that?" he asked, taking a moment to relax as much as he could. Kronos shuddered under him and each one almost was too much. Kronos didn't answer so Methos pulled back slightly and slammed into him again. "I asked how that was," he said, keeping his voice light.

"How was it for you?" Kronos snapped back.

Methos fucked him hard, wanting to hurt, but he couldn't get Kronos to make a sound in protest. He bit Kronos shoulder, hard enough to break the skin and was rewarded by a slight hiss. Methos laughed, biting down hard again on Kronos’s neck. Kronos broke, grunting in pain, and then went completely limp against the invasion. Methos came, hard.

Methos lay back down again, swallowing hard. He felt his pulse in the back of his throat and in his brain at the same time. Kronos didn't move from where he had been fucked, and Methos's semen dripped out of his bruised anus at the same time as Kronos's own blood. Methos rolled onto his side and waited for his own recovery to be over.

 

Finally Methos stood up and unlocked the collar around Kronos's neck. He threw the keys down, and was pleased that Kronos didn't immediately grab for them. Kronos waited a couple of heartbeats and then slowly reached for them and unlock his shackles himself. "Caspian still has your sword," Methos said, turning away.

Kronos stood up, but he wasn't angry. "What stops me from killing you right now?" he asked. "And taking your head at my leisure?"

"Nothing," Methos said, glancing down Kronos’s naked body, hungrily. "But you'd be killing the horsemen along with me."

Kronos was silent, and they stared at each other. "And if I don't kill you?" Kronos asked."We stay brothers," Methos said, quietly, moving into Kronos’s space.

"In all ways?" Kronos asked, moving a little bit closer. Methos could feel Kronos’s breath on him.

"With my permission," Methos said, pushing Kronos back. Kronos let himself be pushed back.

"I told you in the beginning, brother. Nothing you won't beg for."

Methos nodded, and Kronos still kept his distance. "You, too."

Kronos looked furious at the suggestion. Methos glanced down to his sword in an obvious gesture. "You, too," he said again, carefully.

Kronos smiled, suddenly. "Me, too," he said, just as carefully.

"Well, then," Methos said, crossing his arms.

Kronos bent down, pulling on a tunic Methos put out for him. He touched his shorn hair, and half smiled as well. "Let's ride, brother."


End file.
